Irreversible Sadism (GL) - Chapter 21

After homeroom ended, as I was stuffing my textbooks into my bag, Ruri-chan came over to my seat.

“Let’s go home, Tateha.”

I glanced at her outstretched palm and the smile that floated on her face before slinging my bag over my shoulder and standing up.

As I was about to step into the hallway, Ruri-chan slipped ahead of me. What significance was there in the order of our exit? While walking down the corridor, I stared intently at Ruri-chan’s profile.

“Did you listen to the song I recommended the other day?”

Her hair, cascading down to graze her jawline, bounced in sync with her movements.

“I haven’t.”

And my voice fell to the ground without bouncing back.

I wondered why. Recently, I felt as if I had forgotten how to speak, as if the words coming out of my mouth didn’t belong to me.

“I see. It’s fine to listen to it whenever you remember. It’s not like I’m insisting you listen to it. And you know, there’s that phenomenon where if someone promotes something too enthusiastically, it actually puts you off? Like, that happens, right?”

“I don’t know.”

It felt like a fog had settled over my mind. The appropriate words were obscured by the mist.

As I attempted to descend the stairs, my right leg buckled unexpectedly. I couldn’t muster any strength. Just as I thought I would fall, Ruri-chan caught me under my arm.

“Take your time. Hold onto the handrail.”

It was just that once that my right leg hadn’t lifted. Yet, Ruri-chan watched my every move with wide eyes, matching her pace to mine as if she were caring for me.

A member of the basketball club, dribbling the ball, came up the stairs. Isn’t it amazing that you can dribble while going up? They approached us, excitedly.

Ruri-chan stopped, positioning herself to shield me. In that moment, her narrowed eyes were focused on the bouncing ball. Once the basketball player passed, Ruri-chan stepped away from me.

After exiting the school gate, Ruri-chan again took the lead on the path. I noticed that she always tried to position herself on my right side.

“That’s fine.”

I felt a wave of sentimentality wash over me, and my molars ground together.

Imagining the selfish smile of someone caring for a fledgling that couldn’t fly sent a shiver down my spine. The idea that saving something could lead to my own salvation felt eerie. If that were the case, then the one being saved was merely being used as a means to an end. The ego soaked in flavor would crumble at the slightest poke from chopsticks.

“I’ve heard hospital food is bland, but how was it?”

Ignoring my comment, Ruri-chan started the conversation.

As we walked beneath the street trees mixed with the corpses of cicadas, I looked down at my toes.

“It was bland.”

“I see, I guess if they’re concerned about salt content, that’s how it turns out. But I think it’s fine for those who are hospitalized due to injuries.”

“That might be true.”

“What did they serve? Surely they didn’t serve curry.”

“They might have served nikujaga. Also grilled fish.”

“Oh, they serve nikujaga.”

“Yours is definitely tastier than what they served at the hospital.”

The nikujaga I had eaten at the hospital lacked sweetness, transforming into a dish that only faintly carried the earthy flavor of the crumbled potatoes.

Ruri-chan’s nikujaga was far better.

“…I see.”

Fiddling with the ribbon on her blouse, Ruri-chan pouted. Her eyes twitched as if she were holding back something.

When we arrived home, Ruri-chan stopped in front of the entrance. “Well then,” she said, turning her hands behind her back and swaying side to side like a scarecrow.

“Come on in.”

I didn’t even know what emotion I felt. With a genuine sense of annoyance, I invited Ruri-chan into my home. She lifted her toes and straightened her back.

“Well then, I guess I’ll intrude.”

Beneath her shy expression, I thought there must have been some expectation. With a look of relief, Ruri-chan took off her shoes at the entrance.

“Hey, Tateha.”

As soon as she entered the room, Ruri-chan called my name.

While placing a cushion next to the round table, I responded casually, “What?”

“You said yesterday that you can’t change.”

A breeze might have blown, or perhaps it was my half-hearted response. A subtle sound flowed through the room.

“Ruri-chan, you don’t want me to hurt, right?”

Ruri-chan sat on the cushion I had prepared. I sat across from her, leaning against the bed.

“Yeah, I don’t want you to.”

With a clear tone that discarded ambiguity, Ruri-chan nodded.

“But you see, pain is something important to me. Are you going to take that away from me, Ruri-chan?”

“Yeah.”

“Even if it means I might jump again?”

“I won’t let you jump again.”

“I will, absolutely. Because pain is something I have to consume.”

“What do you mean?”

It seemed Ruri-chan still didn’t understand. How humans, how living beings navigate this world. The processes we go through from birth to death.

I opened the lid of the insect cage placed by the window.

In an instant, the scent of decaying earth wafted up. I beckoned, and Ruri-chan approached, furrowing her brow.

“This is the swallowtail butterfly you told me to take care of, right?”

“…This?”

It had probably been about two months since it had died. The swallowtail butterfly’s corpse had turned black and dull, its head and legs rotting away. Its body had lost its fleshiness, sagging like a deflated balloon.

“Doesn’t its head look strange? This is called incomplete metamorphosis, which happens when there’s external shock or hormonal abnormalities during the transition from pupa to adult. This swallowtail butterfly, even after becoming a butterfly, still had the head of a caterpillar.”

Ruri-chan seemed unable to look directly at it, her gaze drifting elsewhere.

“A caterpillar’s head means it doesn’t have a straw to suck nectar, right? Instead, it can only eat leaves, but its body is that of an adult, so it can’t digest leaves. As a result, it ended up bloated like this and died.”

“Oh, and what does that have to do with you, Tateha?”

“We’re in a pupa state right now.”

I closed the insect cage and returned it to its original place.

“Our hearts and bodies are in a murky state. This is a crucial time as we’re about to become adults. But if an obstacle arises, it’s obvious that we’ll experience incomplete metamorphosis when we try to become adults. In elementary and middle school, we were caterpillars, and now we’re pupae. If problems arise at this stage of preparing to become adults, it means we can’t emerge while maintaining our form, no matter how hard we try.”

“I don’t really understand what you’re trying to say, Tateha.”

“That’s why it’s impossible. I’m already messed up. At the pupa stage, I crave pain, something that normal people would avoid. There are bad things mixed into the murky liquid that forms my body and mind. Just imagine what will happen when I become an adult. I’ll have to enter society in a state like that dead swallowtail butterfly, with something wrong with me. Even if I’m told to eat nectar, I won’t be able to, so what will I eat? Obviously, it’ll be leaves, right?”

I rubbed my stomach. Surely, one day, it would swell up, a normal body.

“It’s the same for humans and insects. If you make a mistake during the pupa stage, you can’t go back. No matter how much you’re told to love things other than pain, you don’t have the trachea to consume them. …Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Ruri-chan stared at the mug in her hands, her lips pressed tightly together.

I gulped down the fragrant tea and exhaled.

“I understand what you’re saying, Tateha.”

“Really? Then don’t think about changing me anymore.”

Leaning against the bed, I contemplated when I should dispose of the insect cage and the swallowtail butterfly.

“By the way, Ruri-chan, you’re not an exception, you know? You’re someone who can easily bully others, right? Even as a caterpillar, you were eating things that weren’t normal to survive. You’ve lived your life thinking that inflicting pain is happiness. Inside you, there’s a lot of that murky black nutrient you accumulated as a child. When you became a pupa, that murky stuff will dissolve your body and shape your adult form.”

Caterpillars that grew up eating leaves laced with drugs either die or experience incomplete metamorphosis when they become pupae. Their bodies turn black, making it obvious that they were caterpillars that had ingested drugs. And Ruri-chan was the same.

Things that ordinary people can’t do, Ruri-chan can do.

“You crushed your right eye, didn’t you? Then you strangled me, too. You even tried to drown me by pushing my face into the water. Oh, and you also tore out my piercings, right? …Hey, think about it. Normally, people would refuse that, right? The fact that you didn’t refuse means you’re not normal, Ruri-chan. You’ve long since turned black. Go on, place your hand on your chest. You must have some recollection of it, right? You’re not normal.”

I hadn’t said this before because I knew it would make Ruri-chan sad. But now, I didn’t need to worry about her feelings anymore.

Ruri-chan placed her hand on her chest as I said, closing her eyes.

“Yeah, I’m not normal.”

“That’s right. Ruri-chan hasn’t fundamentally changed since elementary school. So, you won’t change as an adult, right? Your instinctual desires can’t be altered. So please, don’t think about changing me anymore.”

“But I’m not an insect, and neither are you, right, Tateha?”

I couldn’t understand why she didn’t get it, and a condescending sigh escaped from deep within my stomach.

“Pain is the only way I can comfort myself. This is happiness; it has to be this way.”

“Even so, that doesn’t mean it’s okay to hurt yourself.”

“That’s right. I don’t want to do anything to myself either. How nice it would be if someone could do it for me. I really want Ruri-chan to do it. But you won’t do it for me anymore, will you? Then I have no choice but to take care of it myself.”

“There must be other ways. There’s no way it has to be pain.”

The violent stimuli from the outside world can never be obtained by oneself. Even though I understand that, I still approach it as close as possible, searching for a similar sensation. It’s as if I’m trying to experience it as if someone else is doing it for me, groping through the darkness, unsure if I’m on the right path.

“If you’re going to say that much, then teach me.”

“Huh?”

“What should I think is happiness besides pain?”

“That is…”

“Ruri-chan must have it too, right? The pain that I should receive from others. The means to digest the stimuli I should receive from others, the act of filling the gap.”

Ruri-chan brought her hands close to her waist and stopped there.

“I have it, but…”

“Then show me.”

“Uh, but…”

“How should I do it? How can I fill myself without pain? How does Ruri-chan always comfort herself? Show me right here, right now, teach me.”

Pain cannot fulfill a person. I know that. I know it, yet my body craves it, leaving me with no way to avoid it.

If there were actions that could replace it, if that were normal.

“How can I become a proper adult?”

I want to know.

My trembling voice wanders the sky, seeking a destination. The one I stumbled upon, wavering, was Ruri-chan.

My vision blurred for a moment, and I couldn’t see ahead.

I didn’t want to see a swallowtail butterfly that had experienced incomplete metamorphosis either. But I accepted it because it was an inevitable consequence of life, a life that continues to be born without end.

With so many lives being born, it’s statistically inevitable that errors occur, and being included among those errors is an unavoidable phenomenon.

But if all lives could be equal, if we could create a world where incomplete metamorphosis wouldn’t happen, that would surely be better.

It can’t be helped.

I have to give up.

I extinguish what wells up deep within my chest, one by one.

There’s nothing closer to despair than the hope of “maybe.”

So I crush it. When I crush it, a viscous substance oozes out. That liquid, having lost its way, accumulates in the depths of my right eye, which has already lost its light.

“…I understand.”

Ruri-chan said that, then untied her ribbon and began to unbutton her blouse one by one.